"Joohwan-ah, there are customers at table five; I have taken the order, ask if they need any drinks!" The ajumma called.
Joohwan...
My back straightened instantly as soon as the familiar name was heard. Joohawn? Wait, did I hear wrong? No, no, maybe it's just any other person with that name, because why not? People can have their own names similar to others, right?
But as soon as I whipped my head to the man who was walking toward us, my breath hitched in my throat. It's the same Joohwan from yesterday. The one I saved. Taekwang's brother. He was no different from last night; at least, that's what I told myself. Maybe it was just the clothes. Instead of that dark hoodie that blended with his hair, he wore a loose striped sweater that kind of looked like it had been washed too many times. A plain white shirt peeked out from under the hem, hanging a little unevenly. His black jeans were baggy, falling over his clean white socks.
But what caught me wasn't the clothes. It's him. The heavy bags under his eyes. His long, black, neck-length hair was falling across his face; his head dipped just low enough to hide but not enough to disappear. And then he looked.
Our eyes locked.
For a moment, the room went silent. His stare caught mine; there wasn't any flinch in it, yet I swear his pupils widened just slightly, though his eyes didn't fully do their job. My lips parted, and the words, "Are you okay?" Sitting on the tip of my tongue, but he beat me to it.
"What would you like to drink?"
That's it; I swallowed the words like they were the water in my mouth to speak. I turned to Rooyeol, who is staring at me, of course, noting my every action right now. I raised my eyebrows in a sign, and he shook his head as no. I sighed and turned to Joohwan.
"It's okay; we are fine," I said with a nervous smile, no matter how much I tried to smile normally. He nodded his head, and just as he turned on his heel, I hesitantly called him out. "Umm... Joohawn-sii?"
He stood there, turning his head back. "Yes?" The voice was quiet and polite.
I forced it; my thought suddenly felt like it was gone. What was I even going to say? Hey, remember me, the guy who pulled you down from the bench on the bridge last night? How are you now? No, I couldn't throw that out here, in the middle of a restaurant, and not next to my brother, who is blinking between us.
"I...I...umm...is this your restaurant?"
As soon as he heard those words, he almost stood there; his eyes looked more deadpan than ever, then, "No, it's my father's but my aunt runs it well," he said, and the second part sounded like his personal opinion, as it sounded quite clipped at the mention of his father yet casual at the aunt part.
"O-Oh..." I nodded quickly. So the Ajumma is his Aunt. I thought, unnecessarily, noting in my head.
"Now, excuse me," he said with the smallest bow and walked even before I responded. I felt dumbfounded at this rate.
My eyes followed him as he walked away until he disappeared into the kitchen. I sighed, slumping my shoulders and shaking my head.
"Hyung, do you...know him?" Rooyeol asked.
I turned my attention to my brother, his almond eyes fixed on me with a flicker of curiosity in them. I opened my mouth to speak, but paused at what to say. How can I say that that man is your teacher's brother? I saved him from letting himself be killed by jumping into the water from a bridge last night. No, it wouldn't be good... He is someone I met yesterday, no, that doesn't sound good either... then it lit up.
"He was my senior in high school," I said.
And yeah, it's not a lie, though if he were Noochan's senior, then he would be my senior too, no matter if I never knew him or talked to him. "We weren't so close, so I was just surprised to see him here. I didn't know it was his family's restaurant," I added, forcing a smile. My laugh came out a little too loud, and I quickly took a sip of water.
Rooyeol looked easily convinced. He bobbed his head with a quiet hum, leaving from his pressed lips.
I nodded quickly, leaning back against the wooden bench as if the conversation were over for now. But my heart felt heavy, and I couldn't help but steal glances toward the kitchen door where Joohwan had disappeared.
Why was he here, serving tables, when just last night he was standing on the edge of the bridge like the world had already ended for him?
And why did it feel like he didn't want me to say a single word about it?
My thoughts were circling, pulling me back toward the kitchen door, until a soft clank snapped me to the present. The food is finally here, served by the ajumma with her warm smile. "Please enjoy the meal," she said cheerfully before bustling off with the tray tucked under her arm.
I glanced down at the Jinju bibimbap set in front of me, steam curling upward; the colors looked so pretty, and the aroma was too tempting, almost making me forget all my thoughts. And when I looked across the table, Rooyeol's eyes were just sparkling at his Tongyeong bibimbap, lips parting in quiet awe.
I bit the inside of my cheek, holding back a chuckle, though my mouth still curled up at the edges, cute, I mumbled under my breath just for me.
Right now, I wanted to push everything else away—the memory of last night, Joohwan, and even the gnawing questions that refused to leave me. This is my moment with my brother, and I don't want to waste it.
Clapping my hands together, I lifted my spoon cheerfully. I said, "Let's dig in!"
Rooyeol joined his hands together for a moment before reaching for his spoon.
The first bite he took was tiny, but the way his eyes widened, and a soft hum escaped his lips, made me laugh.
"Good, huh?" I asked with a teasing smirk. He rubbed his nose tip before giving me a nod without words, chewing slowly. His cheeks puffed out a little, and second, he looked so much like the kid who used to sneak rice balls into his room after dinner, which made my chest warm and ache with nostalgia.
I grinned and took my first bite.
The moment the spoon hit my tongue, my eyes blew wide. The flavors unfolded all at once: sweet, nutty sesame oil clinging to the warm rice; the crunch of fresh vegetables grounding it; and that deep, breathy heat of gochujang spreading across my palate like a slowly burning fire. The egg yolk coated everything in silky richness, binding it all together until every bite felt hearty and comforting.
In one word It felt like Home.
I almost cried at the taste; for a second, I just sat there, chewing, letting it wash over me with a feeling of home I hadn't realized I missed.
"Damn!" I muttered under my breath, unable to stop the laugh bubbling out of me. "This is dangerously good!"
I have been tasting and testing the food at company sessions almost every day, measuring salt, balancing texture, and making notes like a machine. But nothing there ever matched this. Those meals were numbers on a chart and checkboxes on a form.
This, though—this bowl in front of me—wasn't just about the flavor. It had care in it. The patience. The feel of bringing back the missing home is something you can't mass produce, no matter how many test kitchens you run.
When I glanced at Rooyeol again, he was already halfway through his bowl, eating so focusedly it almost looked like devotion. A laugh slipped out of me, softer this time, with no teasing. I didn't even say anything and ate mine.
After completing and talking to him, he thought back to those short answers; Rooyeol, this time, started to talk a bit more. But never gave any complaints, like I used to tell Eomma, how the teacher used to give the detentions unnecessarily, or how PE used to make me do extra runs.
As we left to pay at the counter, I saw Taekwang coming in. "Oh, Mr. Han, I didn't expect to see you at our small restaurant," he said with surprise underlined in the tone.
"You know him?" The Ajumma who served us asked before I could ask.
"Ah, he is the guardian of this boy. Rooyeol is my student, emomma," he said, pointing at Rooyeol, who bowed to ajumma.
So, she is his mother; that makes sense why he had that visiting card with him. Wait... If he is the son of her, then he must be the cousin of Joohwan, well make sense when he called him hyung, not just for Joohwan being older, but also his elder cousin. So the whole family works together; that's quite interesting. It seems like a close-knit group.
"Ah, so that's how it is," I said lightly, more to myself than anyone else, as I handed the bill money forward.
The ajumma gave me a kind smile as she passed the change back; her hand was warm. "You must visit often, then. Your brother looks like he enjoyed his food."
I glanced at Rooyeol, who ducked his head shyly, though the faintest curl of a smile betrayed him. My chest squeezed. I looked in the direction of the kitchen. Maybe I should. I was staring at the kitchen.
"Yeah, I think we'll be back again, Ma'am," I said with a polite bow and a grin on my lips.
"Oh, don't be so formal. "People here always call me 'ajumma'; it's fine," she said, waving at my words.
I chuckled, "Alright, Ajumma." She flashed a satisfactory smile.
I looked at the kitchen once again; somewhere in my heart, I once wanted to see Joohwan, and also Mostly I wanted to know who made these dishes. And when I turned my head, I noticed Taekwang noticing my distracted glances toward the kitchen.
I quickly looked at Ajumma, opening my mouth, and she looked at me like she was already sensing, "Ah... I just want to know, who prepared our food?" i said for which ajumma stared at me like I didn't like the food, so I quickly added, "I mean, the food is too delicious, so I just wanted to know..." I trailed off.
Taekwang made an 'Oh' sound and said, "That's my hyung,"
My breath caught for a second.
Hyung?
That meant... Joohwan. The same Joohwan who had walked away without letting me say a word, who stood on that bridge like he had nothing left.
"He's the one who made this?" I asked before I could stop myself, my voice thinner than I meant it to be.
Taekwang nodded proudly. "Yeah. My hyung's been in the kitchen since morning. Of course, that's what he graduated in: culinary arts."
I froze at the word "graduated." Of course, he must have done it. That explained the balance of flavors, the way the meal carried not just taste but care. But all I could picture was last night, the trembling shoulders, and the way his knuckles had turned white at the grip on the bridge rail.
How could the same hands that created something so warm, so capable of making anyone ache for home, also hold so much despair?
"Really?" I managed, forcing a small smile. "That explains a lot." My laugh was thin, and I hoped no one noticed the way my throat felt dry.
"Yeah, that's the kind of skill that runs in our family, except for me. That's why I chose teaching," he said with a sheepish grin.
Ajumma reached out and gave him a light smack on the head, making him wince like a kid. "Not everyone can inherit such things. And the person who had gotten it shouldn't waste it, like him." She said, with a hint of disappointment underlined in her words, and for a moment, I wondered if she knew about last night.
Even Taekwang's eyes dulled, but he quickly recovered. "Anyway, if you liked it, you should come again. He doesn't admit it, but he loves it when people enjoy his food," he said, trying to cheer up.
I nodded my head with a friendly smile, letting the awkward tension between us slip away. "I'll definitely come back for more," I said and turned to his mother with a polite bow. "Thank you for the meal. We'll get going."
Rooyeol mirrored me, bowing politely to both his teacher and Ajumma. I once again glance at the kitchen before turning away.
As soon as we settled in the car, Rooyeol tightened his seat belt. I started the engine, the soft purr filling the silence between us. He leaned back against the seat, gaze fixed on the window, and I let my hand rest on the steering wheel for a moment longer than needed.
The thought of Eomma being at the shop crossed my mind. The house would be quiet when we got there, with no scent of her cooking and no voice greeting us from the kitchen. It wasn't unusual anymore, but it still left the place feeling emptier than I wanted for Rooyeol.
I glanced at him; his face was calm, almost thoughtful, as the city rolled by outside the window.
"Did you enjoy it?" I asked casually, pulling us into the street.
His lips curled just faintly. "It was really good, hyung."
I smiled at that, though a part of me wasn't in the car at all. My mind kept circling back to the small restaurant. The taste of Joohwan's food. How can a person with such talent want to waste it by making such a worthless decision last night?
I tightened my grip on the wheel. Thank god I was on time to pull him back. Whatever made him make susch descicion Iam not going to let his skills go to waste.
Somehow, I knew this was not going to be the last time our paths would cross.